Dont Assume, lest you be taken for an Academy Grad
by BiblioBabe
Summary: A short look into the friendship of Harm, Mac, and Sturgis *slightly shipper toned*


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Disclaimer: JAG, its characters, settings, plotlines, etc. do not belong to me (although my birthday is coming up, hint hint). I am writing this for my own personal enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. No copyright infringement is intended. I am not making any money from this, nor am I benefiting in any way (except maybe feedback--that'd be really nice).

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Authors Note: This is the first fanfic that I've actually completed on paper and posted. Please be kind in reviews, but constructive criticism is always helpful. I'm not sure where the thing with Sturgis and Mac and the "Boys will be boys" quote came from--maybe the show, maybe someone else's fanfic, maybe my own disturbed brain. Any info on that would be appreciated. If anything in this story was unwittingly borrowed from someone else's work (a distinct possibility; I read tons of fanfic before beginning to write my own), drop my a line and I will be more than happy to give you credit. Thank you. I really wanted to explore the relationship between Mac and Sturgis--I think they are an interesting pair, and I must confess I am finding Cmdr. Turner attractive. He may not have the best body in the office, but his mind and his personality . . . Well, if he were real, I would not be too upset to meet him. I am also an H/M Shipper, although they both deserve a boot to the head sometimes. Regards.

0900 Hours

JAG Headquarters

"Sturgis, will you give it a rest already?!" Mac fumed. "If I had wanted to make a racist comment, you would know it! I wouldn't be dancing around it--I know as many derogatory terms as you do!"

Commander Sturgis Turner scoffed. "Look, Mac. I have been called every name in the book. I'm sure you haven't had that problem. You have no idea. My great-grandfather was a slave. His master called him "boy" until he was 62--that's when he died. You have no idea!"

"Whatever, Commander. Dammit! That was not racist and you know it. I thought bubbleheads were supposed to have thick skins . . ." Mac broke off as she saw Harm standing in the door of her office. 

"What seems to be the trouble in here?"

Sturgis answered before Mac could react. "The colonel here made a comment that offended me earlier, and I called her on it."

"Mac? What did you say? I can't imagine . . ."

She heaved a sigh--it was just like him not to believe her. "It seems this p.k. here took offense to my 'boys will be boys' comment. He didn't take into account that I am not a racist, never have been. He just jumped to conclusions--seems to be a tendency among Academy grads."

"Or Marines," Harm retorted with a smile. Mac grinned back unhumorously.

"Excuse me, I missed something," Sturgis broke in. "P.k.? What's that? Another one of those terms you are so familiar with?"

"Look, Sturgis, I don't care for that tone. To answer your question, p.k. is 'preacher's kid.' It's _another_ common term among white--" the phone interrupted her as Sturgis glowered. That last 'white' comment--he hadn't pegged her as a racist until a few days ago.

"Colonel MacKenzie, there's a call for you on line two," Tiner's voice crackled over the intercom. Mac thanked him and picked up the handset. She glanced up to see Sturgis still shooting her a look. She pushed the button for line two and covered the mouthpiece.

"Trash," she finished. "White trash." Looking down at the file on the desk and stating into the phone "Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie," she missed the evil look Harm shot at Sturgis and the concerned look Harm gave her.

"Hello Greg!" she exclaimed. Her voice had taken on a clear, clipped quality. She sat up straighter as she talked, and her words sounded like she'd been studying the thesaurus. "When will you arrive? That sounds wonderful. Of course, it will be no trouble at all. I would enjoy it very much. I will speak with you again later. Good-bye, Colonel."

"Mac?" questioned Harm. She realized that he and Sturgis were still standing in the door to her office. 

"Just an old friend . . . From high school," Mac informed him. She knew he had been questioning her about more--he was worried. She hadn't told Sturgis about her childhood, and Harm knew that. Therefore, he wouldn't grasp the "white trash" reference. She shook her head to tell him that she didn't want to go into it right now; that it was a reflex. Nodding, Harm turned and left.

"See ya later, Mac," he called.

"Colonel," Sturgis added politely but coldly. Mac bent over her desk.

1210 Hours

JAG Headquarters

Mac swore quietly as she jogged out of the Admiral's office and across the bullpen. She was going to be late to lunch with Greg. Mac had just grabbed her cover and purse when she saw him walking through the office. She stepped out of her office and called. "Hello, Greg!"

He came jauntily walking over, a grin on his face. Mac noticed a lot of the bullpen staring at them. They hadn't seen her with any men--other than her JAG friends, of course--ever since she and Mic had broken up. And now, here was Greg, a great guy, six feet six inches of muscle-bound Marine, and a full Colonel at that, coming to see her._ Oh well, _she thought, getting ready to leave, _let them wonder for now._

"Good-morning, Sarah. Or should I say afternoon?" he greeted her. He smiled and offered her his arm. "Shall we depart?"

Mac grinned and took the proffered arm, thankful that Harm and Sturgis were out of the office.

1310 hours

JAG Headquarters

"Sturgis, tell me what exactly Mac said to get you so riled up," Harm pleaded with his friend.

"It's very simple, Harm. Two days ago, when you and I were discussing a case, Mac overheard us, remember?"

"It seemed more like she was standing in the doorway, listening," Harm said. "Good thing she was presiding on another case at the time."

"And later that day we were discussing it, and she said, and I quote, 'Boys will be boys,'" Sturgis fumed.

"She meant boys as in men--not in a derogatory racist term. In the years I've known her, she has never said anything racist. It's just not like her!" Harm defended. "Besides, I know when she's lying--and when she was telling you that it wasn't racist, she was telling the truth."

"Alright then, so if you know Mac so well, what was the comment about 'white trash'? If she wasn't covering up for something, I don't know what!"

Harm sighed. "Look, Sturgis, that's something that you'll have to speak to her about. If Mac wants to go into that with you, that's her business. I'll not reveal what was said to me in confidence, especially by her."

"Is that because you love her, Harm?" Sturgis parried.

Harm paled, then turned red. "I never . . . ."

Just then, Harriet stuck her head in the door. "Sirs, do you know if the Colonel is back from lunch yet? I need to talk to her."

"I didn't know she was going out for lunch today," Harm murmured, half to himself.

"Oh yes, sir!" Harriet exclaimed, just as Jen Coates walked by. "Hey Jen," Harriet called. "Has the Colonel come back from lunch yet?"

PO Coates grinned and shook her head. "I have a feeling that she'll be taking a long lunch today, Lieutenant. Did you see that guy she was going out with?"

Harriet grinned. "If I were going out for lunch with him, I'd be taking the whole afternoon off," she tittered. The two women walked away, chattering happily. 

Harm was still glowering when the phone on Sturgis's desk rang. Harm barely noticed while Sturgis talked to whoever was on the other end. Hanging up, Sturgis punched Harm's arm. "Hey Harm, my dad is coming up tonight, wants to know if you'll come out to dinner with us. He really wants you to."

"Well," Harm began. "I was going to ask Mac if she wanted to hang out tonight, but . . ." he paused. Given Sturgis's current feelings toward Mac, not to mention the chatter of Harriet and Jen, Harm decided that maybe a night with the guys wouldn't hurt, and he could maybe enlist the Chaplain's help in getting Mac and Sturgis to be friends again. Having his two best friends at each other's throats wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. "That sounds great, Sturge. Thanks." 

Sturgis was glad Harm had agreed. Maybe Harm would spill the info about the "white trash" comment then. He looked up. Mac was crossing the bullpen with a smile on her face. Harriet looked at her, and Mac shrugged her shoulders. A few minutes later, Mac emerged from her office on her way to court. As she walked, Harriet and Jen fell in step with her, the three women gossiping all the way to the elevator. Sturgis looked at Harm and realized that the other man had noticed the action of the three women, and looked none to thrilled. Sturgis shook his head and went back to his paperwork. What did Harm see in her?

1730 Hours

JAG Headquarters

Mac walked out of the office on time, which was becoming a rarity these days. She did have some paperwork that could be finished, but she wanted to get ready to go out with Greg. She smiled. He had been one of her best friends in high school, he had been one of the few things that had stayed the same. She spent a lot of her free time over at his house. The times when she was sober, of course. After her grandmother's death, she practiced Farsi with Greg's mom.His mom had tried to help her out a lot, and for that Mac was grateful. There wasn't anything romantic between her and Greg, they'd known each other too long for that. He truly was like her big brother. They hadn't seen each other in about five years, and lunch hadn't given them nearly enough time to get caught up, so they'd decided to have dinner together, too.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned around. Looking into the semi-darkness, she saw Sturgis leaving, and Harm close behind him. It looked like neither was very happy. She shook her head and sighed. Sturgis was probably still mad about the "racist" comment she had made, what an ass! It wasn't racist at all, yet she couldn't get him to understand that. "Boys will be boys" indeed! She'd grumbled that about Mattonni and Bud once, teasingly of course, and Mattonni hadn't taken offense. What was Sturgis so hyper about? And Harm, he looked upset, too. Maybe he was upset because she was upset with Sturgis? But she had a right to be, darnit! It never occurred to her that Harm had heard Harriet and Jen discussing her lunch--she simply didn't think about Greg that way. She just chalked it up to the "siding with Sturgis" reasoning and gave up on it. She was resolved to have a good time with Greg tonight, whatever mess she might have left at the office--it would keep until tomorrow. Mac stepped into her car and pulled out--never imagining what the evening held in store for her, Greg, Sturgis, and Harm.

1815 Hours

Restaurant

Sturgis and his dad walked into the restaurant and went to the bar. Looking around to see if Harm was there yet, he noticed a number of other patrons looking towards the door. Following his fellow diners' eyes, he glanced over his shoulder. Coming into the bar was a huge man, at least as tall as Harm, if not taller. This man was not simply tall, but big as well--obviously a body-builder. His skin was darker than Sturgis' own, and faintly olive--he looked to be part African-American and part, well, some other race, possibly middle eastern? He walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. While he was waiting, he checked with the hostess, probably about a table, Sturgis mused. His attention was claimed by Harm's entrance. There were greetings all around, and the three men dived into their menus.

The waitress came and took their orders. Looking around, Sturgis again saw most eyes travel towards the door. Looking up, he saw Mac walking in alone, dressed in a burgundy tank that set off her cleavage and olive skin, and tight black pants. Sturgis wheeled on Harm, "You invited _her?"_

Harm held up his hands to defend himself. "I never even had a chance to talk to her after lunch," he pleaded. "Besides, I wouldn't do that without asking you. Come on, dude!"

"What's the problem with that pretty lady, Colonel Mac- MacKenzie, isn't it? She's always seemed very pleasant to me," Chaplain Turner asked his son. 

"The problem with that 'pretty lady,' dad, is that she's a racist bitch!" Sturgis yelled.

"Hey! I don't ever want to hear you talking about Mac like that ever again, do you hear me?!" Harm screamed at his friend.

"I'm sorry, Sturgis," his father said. "But I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Harm on this one, she's not 'walking the walk' of a racist, Son. Look."

Harm and Sturgis turned their heads to where the Chaplain was pointing, and both felt their mouths drop open. There, in the middle of the bar, stood Mac embracing the tall African-American man. Sturgis was surprised--maybe Mac had been telling the truth about not being racist, after all. Harm was surprised. "Who the _hell_ is that hugging my Mac?" he breathed. 

"Shall we go over and say hi?" queried the Chaplain. Harm and Sturgis nodded.

Mac walked into the bar and quickly found Greg--he stood out in any crowd. She walked directly over to him and gave him a hug. She could vaguely feel many people in the bar looking at them, but that wasn't even high on her list of priorities. She wanted to have a steak and talk to Greg. As they walked away, she heard two men yelling at each other, but it didn't register--she was focused on food and her friend. 

They sat down and ordered their sodas--Greg wasn't going to drink tonight, she knew. It was very seldom that they saw each other these days, and he never drank around her. The only other man who had ever been that considerate was Harm--he didn't drink around her either. John didn't count--he didn't drink when they went out, because they had never gone out. But Mic had, occasionally, and Dalton had a lot. Chris--well they both drank then. Turning her mind from the past, she smiled at Greg, ready to pick up where they had left off at lunch, only to find him looking at someone behind her. She heard a slight cough, and she turned around. What she saw almost made her fall off of her chair.

Mac stood up, her blood running cold, and turned to face Harm, Sturgis, and Sturgis' dad who were all standing behind her. She pasted a smile on her face and Harm groaned--she was going into full Marine mode, and this couldn't be good. Behind her, Greg stood as well. "Chaplain, Commanders," Mac was surprised to hear how evenly her voice came out. "Chaplain Turner, Commanders, this is Colonel Greg Horowitz, USMC, a very dear friend of mine from high school. Greg, this is Chaplain Turner, his son, Commander Sturgis Turner, and Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., all Navy. Commanders Rabb and Turner work at JAG with me."

"Good evening, gentlemen," Greg said, shaking each man's hand in turn. 

"Good evening, Colonel Horowitz. May I assume you're a full-bird colonel?" Chaplain Turner asked.

"Yes, sir, I am. Pleased to meet you, Chaplain," replied Greg.

Mumbled hellos came from Harm and Sturgis as they shook his hand.   
"I really had no idea you were, uh, going to be here," Mac said. The last thing she needed were accusations of stalking from Sturgis. 

"Well, Colonels, we should probably be heading back to our table," Chaplain Turner stepped in and saved the day. "Nice seeing you again, Colonel. Nice to meet _you_, Colonel." And with that, they returned to their table.

Mac and Greg quietly returned to their conversation from lunch, Mac putting the uncomfortable scene out of her mind for the time being. At a table across the restaurant, however, three men were not quite so lucky. 

"Who is that guy?" Harm asked. "Why didn't she tell me she was dating someone? I thought--hoped she liked me. Does this mean she doesn't? She seemed happy with him--does she care about me?"

"Who the hell knows?" Sturgis asked. "So, here's my question: did she know we were here? Was she trying to prove a point? Or are they really good friends? Is she really as non-racist as you say, Harm? Then what was up with the "white trash" thing?"

"Ask her." came the gentle voice of Chaplain Turner. "Harm, ask _her_ if she's dating him, ask _her_ if she likes him, but most of all, _ask her if she likes you_. It's always better to go to the source. Sturgis, ask _her_ if it was a coincidence. Ask _her_ what she meant about white trash. Haven't I always told you, ask questions first?"

"You're right," the two men said in unison. The rest of the meal was finished quietly.

0830 Hours

JAG Headquarters

"Mac, can I talk to you for a minute?" Sturgis cornered her in the break room.

"Okay, Commander," Mac said warily. The last thing she wanted this morning was Sturgis yelling at her about keeping her nose in her own business and not trying to prove a point. Well--she paused. Maybe not the _last_ thing, she thought, looking at Harm's still dark office. The real last thing she wanted was Harm yelling at her that she hadn't told him she was dating someone--never mind that she and Greg weren't dating, he would jump to conclusions. _Seems to be a tendency among Academy grads_ flitted across her mind. "Let's go to my office, shall we?

"Mac, I'm sorry," Sturgis said. "I had myself convinced that you were racist, but after last night I had trouble believing myself. I owe you an apology."

Mac nodded sadly. "Yes, you do. Apology accepted, Sturgis. Was there anything else?"

"We-ell, yes, actually. The other day, you said something about me being a p.k.--you said you meant 'preacher's kid.' So, um, after you said that, you told me it was a term common among white, then you paused, then said trash. I guess--" Sturgis finished in a rush, embarrassed.

"Yes, Sturgis, I did mean to say 'white trash.' I mean," Mac paused; what exactly did she want to say? "Here's the thing. I know all the racial epitaphs because my father was a, well, not white supremacist, but well, you know what I mean, right? He didn't want to get _rid_ of people of color, he just wanted them to stay the hell away from him. And my father definitely was white trash--my whole neighborhood was. Luckily, thanks to people like Greg's mom, I didn't grow up believing that. And Greg's just a good friend. We went to high school together, like I said last night, and we both managed to escape the confines of the town we grew up in. That gives us a special bond, and, well . . . ." Mac trailed off.

"There's more to this story, isn't there?" Sturgis asked. 

Mac sighed, of course he would pick up on that. Hopefully he wouldn't push, she didn't quite feel comfortable telling him all about her childhood at this point, even with the accidental confession. And she especially didn't want to go into it right here, right now. It wasn't that it bothered her like it used to, she could detach herself and get it out very quickly if she had to, but it made people so damn uncomfortable around her, as if they felt they had to censor whatever they wanted to say before they said it. It usually wore off after time, but she didn't have that time right now. "Yes, Sturgis, but not now. Can you accept that?"

"Sure, Mac, no problem. But whenever, I'll listen." And with that, Sturgis left.


End file.
